Hiya, Ash!

Dear Ashley,

I'm kinda happy today. Happy in the sense that I'm not sad, or stressed, or contemplative. I'm good. Could be better, though. But I'm not complaining. Good is fine for me.

There are lots of times when I remember you. Like whenever I talk to an officemate of mine who's into dogs. Or whenever I play with Cassie and Shadow and feel that there should have been a 3rd dog strolling around the garden with them. Or whenever I see the fake you (a.k.a. your stuffed toy form) and I try to get it to act as if it were you.

I don't like looking at the place you were buried anymore. I just don't tell anyone that. It kinda pains me to see how the mound that was once there is slowly flattening with every rainfall. I don't know. It's as if seeing now-flattened soil just gives finality to your death. No longer does it hold any trace of your shape. It's just sad.

I guess it's true that one never completely gets over the death of a loved one. I don't think I ever really will. If it weren't for all the distractions (work, family, friends, photography, the dogs, etc.), I'd probably be wallowing in misery up to this very day. It's still a weird, uncomfortable feeling knowing you're no longer with us.

Sometimes, I remember those days when I would tell myself, "In the future, when I have my own house, Ash'll be with me." And it saddens me when I think to the future knowing you aren't, in fact, with me any longer. At least not physically. True I'll be carrying the memory of you everywhere I go, but in five or ten years' time, my future husband will never have met you; neither will my kids.

It's sad that they'll never get to meet my all-time favorite dog. (Not that I don't love Shadow or Cassie; I do. But they can never hold a candle to you, and to how close you and I were.) It's sad that every experience I'm about to go through, you won't be there. I won't be able to run to you and give you a squeeze and talk to you.

But life goes on, right?

I've kinda moved on. I really have. I'm no longer grieving; just remembering. Or wondering what could have been. That's all.

I just miss you, that's all.